


The Devil Never Steals (He Makes You Sell It)

by Lokifan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bad Touch Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, Caning, Coercion, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face Slapping, Forced Orgasm, Friendship, Gen, Humiliation, M/M, Self-Sacrifice, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21914839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokifan/pseuds/Lokifan
Summary: World of Ruin. Iggy’s infected by the Starscourge, and Prompto goes to Ardyn, the only one who can help, to make a deal.Read the tags, please.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum, Prompto Argentum & Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Ardyn Izunia
Comments: 23
Kudos: 157





	The Devil Never Steals (He Makes You Sell It)

**Author's Note:**

> First proper fic in this fandom! Embracing the darkness right out of the gate, natch - this was maybe the first fic idea I had, aaaages ago before I fought my way past some writer’s block. I know a couple of other people have had the same idea, but eh, seeing how different versions of an idea go is part of what I like about fandom.

“Gladio!” Prompto felt his face break into a smile as he caught sight of wide shoulders and wild dark hair at the bar. Gladio didn’t turn - the hunters’ bar was packed and noisy - and Prompto wriggled his way through the crush of people towards his friend. “Gladio!”

Gladio turned and seized him round the shoulders for a bro-hug. “Hey! Good to see you. Did you get my text?”

Prompto shook his head. “You know what service’s like outside the city. I just got back from a hunt - we’ll be here a few days, resting up.”

“Iggy’s here too, round there.”

“Awesome!” It’d been ages since the three of them were all in Lestallum at the same time, with space to breathe. They all had their own hunting groups now - Gladio’d made them separate early on, to spread out their expertise, and he’d been right. “You buying?”

Gladio snorted. “You’re the one who just got back from a hunt - shouldn’t you be flush?”

“These threads don’t come cheap, y’know.” Prompto gestured grandly at his new pants: deep purple zebra-print, and durable against attack.

“They should.” 

Prompto smacked his shoulder. Even so, he did end up buying the first round, and the two of them wound their way through the dingy bar. The place was crowded with hunters; everywhere was crowded these days, of course, and hunters tended to drink too much. But Ignis was easy to spot, with his height and his hair sticking straight up and his presence that always made itself felt.

As they reached the table, Prompto realised Ignis had his right foot up on a chair, leg stretched out. He’d been injured. “Iggy! What happened?”

“No time for a greeting and a chat before the interrogation begins?”

Prompto huffed and put a beer down by Iggy’s hand, where he could feel it. “Here’s your beer.”

“Thank you.”

Prompto and Gladio settled down at Ignis’ table, crowding protectively round. Prompto bit back the questions as Ignis asked them how they were, but couldn’t stop himself from scowling at the bandage round Ignis’ knee. Iggy’s team wasn’t good enough, clearly. If he and Gladio’d been there, it wouldn’t have happened.

Gladio clearly agreed. “Seriously, man, what happened?”

“We were met with a coeurl after a long day and I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Don’t you have a couple of long-range fighters on the team? Where were they?” 

“Stopping it from blasting us.”

“But not fast enough. How experienced are they? You shouldn’t take on green fighters, Iggy, your squad’s not one for people to _learn the ropes_ \- ”

He stopped as Ignis snorted, letting his head drop back against his chair. “Your concern is touching, Gladio, but misplaced. And Prompto, I can _feel_ you scowling. Silvia’s been a hunter since before we lost daylight, and Viri’s nothing to sniff at, either. Injuries happen in our line of work; you’ve both gone through enough potions on my watch to know that. It doesn’t mean my team failed me.”

“I know,” Prompto said, still sullen. 

Gladio grumbled but agreed. “I’ve got a new scar of my own to prove the point.”

“Yeah? Show us, big guy!”

“Not a chance.”

“It’s healed?” Ignis asked, brows wrinkling above his sunglasses.

“Yeah, it’s fine. It was bad enough that they used a potion and that mostly took care of it. Now I just have a fun new scar.”

“Fun for who?” Prompto teased, wanting to move them away from all the depressing injury talk. “How’s Aqua doing?”

“She’s great,” Gladio said in his most forbidding tones, which Prompto cheerfully ignored. 

“Does she like the new scar? I assume she’s into the rough-and-ready warrior look, given… you.” His gesture took in Gladio’s muscles, scars, and current glare. “Hey, if I got an interesting new mark on my face, d’you think she’d wanna - ”

“I will break you.”

“Careful,” Iggy said. “If his crush on Lady Highwind’s anything to go by, he just might be into that.”

“Hey!” Prompto yelped, and the conversation turned to teasing Prompto instead. Prompto’s anger over Ignis’ wound faded as they talked, and it became clear that he was as sharp and with-it as ever, apparently unpained by his injury. Even so, Gladio and he glowered at any passers-by who looked like they might walk too close and jar his leg.

“From what I hear, he’s still trying to impress Cindy.”

“He’s still trying to impress everyone,” Ignis said, and Gladio laughed. “On that note, Prompto, what’s this I hear about you taking on daemons by yourself?”

“Um…”

“What the hell?” Gladio snapped.

“Don’t tell me off!” Prompto protested. “You’ve done that too, I bet you have, and it was only twice - ”

“ _Twice_?” said Ignis sharply, and Prompto winced.

“Uh - ”

“We wanna have a good night, all right?” said Gladio. “Leave him alone about it now, Ignis. We’ll give him the talk tomorrow.”

“All right,” Ignis said. Prompto sagged with relief.

“And if that doesn’t work we’ll go round his hunter team and tell them they’re not allowed to leave him by himself, because he’s an idiot.”

Prompto dropped his face onto the table. “Guys,” he moaned. “Just because Noct’s not around any more doesn’t mean you have to mother-hen _me_ instead.”

A breath’s pause. Then - “But you need so much mother-henning,” Ignis said, amused.

“We’ve got all this time for it now,” agreed Gladio.

Prompto made a disgusted noise into the pitted wood. Then he sat up again, making another one as his cheek unpeeled stickily from the table. “Ugh.”

Gladio’s eyes lit up, and he licked one broad thumb and reached for Prompto’s face. Prompto jerked back with a cry. “Don’t you dare!”

“C’mere.”

“I’ll end you!”

Gladio laughed, folding his arms in a way that made him look even more massive. “You will, huh?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a noted sniper. I won’t need to get within range of those gorilla arms of yours, big guy.”

“You’re just worried Cindy likes me best.”

“Cindy likes cars best. All humans are a distant second.” Prompto had recovered from that knowledge a while ago, but he put some extra woe into his voice, and was rewarded with his friends’ laughter.

They spent the night in the bar, even though it meant a meal of nuts and pork scratchings that wasn’t remotely up to Ignis’ standards. They talked and drank and laughed, working their way steadily through beers and greeting hunters they were friendly with. A few people stopped in for a chat - an old Kingsglaive Gladio and Iggy knew, a budding war photographer Prompto had taken on a couple of hunts - but mostly they left the Crownsguard to catch up together. Prompto took a few photos, the motion instinctive: bright faces, Gladio spilling beer down his chest over an in-joke, Ignis’ cheeks flushing as the night wore on and they got drunker.

They mentioned Noct a few times - lightly, not wanting to press on a bruise. Even so, it was a heady relief to be able to talk about him without people staring at Prompto in that awful, horrified silence. To be around people who’d loved - who loved - and knew Noct the same way he did.

By around two in the morning they were all pretty drunk, and Lestallum’s artificial lights had long since gone dim. Prompto and Gladio helped Iggy home, unsteady as he was from the combination of blindness, his bad leg, and beer. At the door Ignis scrabbled for his keys and almost dropped them. Prompto grabbed the keys off him. “I got it.”

He had a little trouble with the keys himself, but then the door opened and the three of them staggered into Ignis’ studio apartment in turn, Gladio still trying to hold Ignis up. 

They got Ignis to sitting at the bottom of his bed. “Want some water before we head off?” said Gladio.

“Don’t be silly,” Ignis said, fond and impatient. “You might as well sleep here, both of you. Prompto’s room is halfway across the city.”

“I don’t mind - ”

“We’ll crash here,” Gladio said, talking over him. “Prompto, you’re on the couch.”

“Why me?”

“It’s too small for Gladio,” Ignis said, clattering his glasses onto his bedside table. “He should share my bed.”

“Go on, ‘shortcake’,” Gladio said, laughing.

“That’s not for you!” said Prompto. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it at Gladio. “I should never’ve told you she calls me that.”

“Too late now,” Gladio said comfortably, and collapsed onto Ignis’ bed, making it creak. Ignis gave a tiny yelp and Prompto fought back giggles.

Prompto curled up on the couch, far too tired and tipsy to get himself out of his very tight pants, and heard Gladio get out of bed again long enough to turn out the lights. For a moment Noct’s absence scooped out the inside of Prompto’s chest; the pain of emptiness stole his breath. The three of them lying down to sleep in one room, like back then, but without him -

Gladio snuffled, and then made a _chuff_ noise as Iggy audibly slapped at him. Prompto laughed a little, eyelids heavy, and fell asleep in the comfort of the sound of their breathing.

***

Several hours later came the sound of Ignis groaning.

Prompto woke muzzily. How long had it been since he’d felt safe enough to wake slowly? He sat up still bleary-eyed, then came alert as Gladio turned on the lights and revealed a sweating Ignis with his teeth gritted against pain.

Gladio pulled the duvet up, looking at Ignis’ leg, then cursed. Prompto rushed over, and jerked to a stop at the sight of long, dark lines of infection arrowing out from the bandages, blackening Ignis’ veins. Far worse, the black infection was bleeding purple.

The Starscourge.

Something had got him out there and now he was turning into a daemon.

Prompto stumbled back from the sight of it, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blackness: death, right there, written on Ignis’ body. Inevitable. 

It didn’t seem real; how could this be real? His mouth formed soundless shapes as he tried to react, to find his way through this cold, endless moment of knowing what the infection of Ignis’ leg meant.

He met Gladio’s eyes. The disbelief there ripped through him. Even after everything, Gladio hadn’t believed Ignis could be taken away; Prompto could see that in his face. Prompto turned away, curling forward around the pain in his chest; it felt like he’d been punched. He could hardly breathe around it.

“Well?” Ignis said, a little impatient. “Can you see the problem?”

Gladio was stronger than Prompto would ever be, because he answered him.

“Yeah, Ignis.” His voice was hoarse, and it wavered on Ignis’ name; but he said it. “Starscourge. It doesn’t - doesn’t look good.”

“Ah,” said Ignis, very calmly. And for a blinding moment Prompto hated him passionately, because if _that_ was Ignis’ reaction, how could Prompto rage and destroy and wail his heart out like he wanted to?

Ignis was going to die. He was going to leave them and there wasn’t going to be any Ignis any more - nowhere -

Gladio fell heavily to his knees beside the bed, and Prompto saw his knuckles whiten as he clutched at the sheets by Ignis’ leg.

“Iggy,” Gladio said, rough and pained. Ignis reached out, but said nothing, and Prompto was horribly reminded of his silence after he’d been blinded.

Prompto couldn’t speak. He felt like he might shake apart if he tried. He glanced up at Ignis’ face, unable to look at the infection, and found he could still make a sound: a sob choked its way out of him. 

Ignis’ face was stone but Prompto saw his cheek quiver. Saw him swallow as he attempted control. Ignis’ eyes were shut, his mouth trembling, and Prompto’s throat burned at the sight of it. This was _Iggy_ , and he shouldn’t ever be laid open like this. It was a further attack to see him struggle to control his emotions.

“I see,” said Ignis.

“I see?” Gladio repeated, his voice rising to a roar. “I see?” 

He moved to the kitchen, massive shoulders bunching, and Prompto heard something smash. Then another something. He and Ignis waited, both frozen, and then Gladio appeared again in the doorway. His face had crumpled in a way Prompto had never, ever wanted to see. “Not this. Astrals, not this.”

“It’s not _fair_ ,” Prompto burst out, and immediately felt mortified. _That_ was the first thing he said? He sounded like a child. Ignis was becoming a daemon, facing the worst death he could imagine, and _that_ was Prompto’s contribution.

_But it’s true_ , the pain in his chest insisted stubbornly, despite his blooming flush. Ignis had already lost his sight, and even then he’d kept battling the daemons, pushing back the dark as well as anyone could. Even when they’d lost Noct to the Crystal, Ignis had kept going.

And Astrals, what would Prompto say to Noct? He’d never doubted Noct would come back. But when he did, how could they look at Noct and tell him Ignis was dead? That they’d lost him, that he wouldn’t be there with them when it was time?

Gladio finally stumbled away from the kitchen door, moving like he’d forgotten how his legs worked. He dropped down on his side of the bed again, next to Ignis. Close but not touching. His shoulders heaved as he sucked in a breath. “I won’t let you become a daemon. I won’t let you hurt anyone.”

Prompto made a horrified noise, knowing what the promise meant - _I’ll kill you when the time comes_ \- but Ignis jerked Gladio forward into a tight hug. Prompto heard Gladio’s breathing go wet.

Ignis drew away first, and Prompto could see he was pale and sweating. Prompto made himself move forward. At least his unsteady breathing meant Iggy knew where he was. Prompto put the back of his wrist to Ignis’ forehead, the way he could remember his mother doing for him when he was very small. The way Iggy had done for him, when he’d got so sick the first winter after darkness fell.

He was burning up. Prompto cursed softly. “D’you have any medication for a fever?”

Ignis shook his head. “There seemed little point when I’m rarely here. Besides, my team needs the supplies for active duty.”

Gladio growled under his breath, and Prompto agreed entirely, despite knowing they’d both made the same calculation themselves. He couldn’t bear Ignis’ drawn face. He gave Gladio a pleading look - what for, he didn’t know, but they needed medicine and he couldn’t make himself leave. Gladio pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Iris; I’ll get her to bring over some supplies.”

Iris didn’t pick up. “Should I call Cor, maybe?” Gladio said. “He won’t - I mean if you don’t want people to know, he won’t say a word.”

Ignis nodded, a staccato movement.

Listening in on Gladio’s half of that phone call felt like having his insides slowly scraped out of his chest. It started with Gladio explaining that Ignis was ill, and needed medication. A few moments of silence, and an intake of breath. Cor must’ve asked what was wrong.

“He… um…” Gladio glanced over and Ignis must’ve felt the question in the air; he nodded. 

“He’s got the Starscourge,” Gladio said. His voice was so deep and pained Prompto could barely understand him, and after a moment Gladio had to repeat the words. Prompto flinched from them, and caught Ignis doing the same.

“...Yeah,” Gladio said, voice clogged with tears. “Yeah. I know. I’ll tell him. See you soon, Cor.”

He hung up, and let his arm drop. Prompto shut his eyes, wanting to block out the sight of Gladio - so big and ferocious and brave, always taking on whatever the world could throw at them - standing there like that, his arms limp and weaponless against what was coming now.

“Come on,” said Gladio abruptly. Prompto opened his eyes. “Don’t just stand there.” Prompto felt a moment of helpless rage - _what else do you want me to do?_ \- and then Gladio pulled him towards the bed.

Prompto perched at the end of it, not wanting to take up space. Gladio sat next to Ignis where he was propped against the headboard, close enough that he’d be able to feel Iggy breathing.

“It’ll be a while, Cor said. There’s more refugees coming in and they’re clogging up the main roads, plus they’re running from some beastie so it’s hard to keep things running smoothly. But he’s doing his best; he thought it’d be less than two hours.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” said Ignis, deadpan. After a moment he chuckled at his own _horrible_ joke, and then Gladio did too, a rough bark, and Prompto put his face into his knees, laughing like crying. 

They fell into an awful silence. Prompto itched to do what he normally did: to keep things light, to fill in silences. But he couldn’t, and the instinct kept hurting him, like a dog getting choked by its lead. Gladio was pacing restlessly, filling the small space with his pain and tethered rage. Ignis’ hands were clenching into fests then unclenching, again and again. Prompto watched, hypnotised, as Iggy touched the tip of his thumb to the tip of each finger in turn. Then repeat.

It must be a calming technique. Maybe he’d try it himself.

All these years and Ignis was still teaching him how to be better. Prompto sucked in a shuddering breath. Ignis’ face went blurry.

Gladio’s phone rang. It was the ringtone Prompto had changed it to last night when Gladio’d been in the bathroom: Prompto and Ignis singing _For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow_ into his phone, laughing and off-key, Ignis audibly slurring on _so say all of us_.

Gladio’s face twitched as he fought off a laugh. Then he looked at it, muttered, “Cor,” and picked up.

A few seconds later, his whole body went rigid. “You’re sure?”

Prompto stood up, anxious. Ignis tried to follow the movement automatically, and groaned through his teeth. Prompto glanced down in concern, and Astrals, was the Starscourge infection a little bigger already? The purple-black seemed to be biting deeper into Iggy’s leg, crawling up his thigh.

“That’s - Iris - she’s definitely out there? She doesn’t have her greatsword right now, are you - Right, yeah. Course. All right.”

“What’s happened?” Ignis asked as Gladio hung up.

“I - nothing.”

“Gladio,” Ignis said. He didn’t raise his voice, but at the tone of it Gladio took a step back. He scrubbed at his face with both hands.

“The daemon behind the refugees. It’s what made them finally leave their homes after this long, and it’s chasing them. Iris and her team went out to deal with it, along with another group, and the remnants of the other group just got back to the city.”

“Is Iris okay?” Prompto asked.

Gladio’s face was grim. “She was alive the last time they saw her. That’s about all Cor could promise me. He’s gonna be here in twenty minutes or so, so maybe he’ll have more then.”

“Gladio,” Ignis said. His voice was barely a breath, so quiet Prompto almost didn’t hear it, even in the near-silent apartment. “You’re not going to be here in twenty minutes, surely?”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Normally I wouldn’t suggest it in circumstances such as these, believe me.” Ignis was breathing a little faster, voice a little thicker than normal; but he held every other sign of emotion back. Gladio and Prompto were probably emoting enough for all of them, Prompto thought; he looked down and realised he was wringing his hands. 

“You’re not suggesting it now. I’m not leaving.”

“I know you wouldn’t for any other reason, but Iris is your sister, and she needs you.”

“She’s the best. If she needs me for this then I couldn’t do anything about it anyway.”

“You need to stand by her - ”

“She’d never want me to leave you when - ”

“There’s no bloody point staying here for me!” Prompto flinched from the anger in Ignis’ voice. The hopelessness underlying it.

If this argument went on, they were going to have to talk about it. Ignis would make himself say every horrible thing - Prompto’s mind skated over it, flinching from the pain of it - about how it was too late to help him, but not Iris. Gladio could do something for her. There was nothing to be done here; it was just the bleak brutality of waiting. Of feeling your heart be torn in two slowly, the muscle of it being ripped apart by strand by strand.

“You should go,” he said. Gladio made a shocked sound. “I - I know, Gladio, I’m sorry. But you can’t - you should do it for Iggy. He doesn’t want you to stay and worry about Iris.”

_Don’t make him have this fight with you now,_ he thought, and hoped Gladio could see it in his face.

Maybe he did. Because Gladio stared at him for long moments, amber eyes glaring out of a face washed pale by fear, angry and set as a gargoyle’s. Then his expression crumpled, and he slumped backwards against the wall.

“All right.”

“Truly?” Ignis said.

“I promise. I’m gonna - I’m gonna go. Away. I’ll find her.” The words stumbled out of his mouth, barely seeming to make it past his lips.

“Good,” Ignis said. For a moment his stoicism splintered and cracked, now that he’d won; fear and sadness revealed themselves in his face. Loss. Gladio sucked in a breath, seeming frozen in place against the wall. “You’ll - you’ll look after Noct, when he wakes up?”

“You know I will,” said Gladio, and paused for an endless moment. “I took an oath.”

And somehow that was the right thing to say; Prompto could see it in Ignis’ face. Ignis closed his eyes, dropping back against the headboard of his bed. “I know.”

“I’ll be back in time,” Gladio said, and then he was gone, half-running from the apartment as if to outrun any suggestion that he might be wrong.

Eventually Prompto found words again. “D’you need anything? Water, or coffee, or - I could try and make you breakfast - ”

“Perhaps not when I’m not in a position to run in and put out the fire. But Ebony would be marvellous. And a glass of water, if you please.”

Prompto nodded and went into the kitchen. There were the remnants of two plates on the floor where Gladio had smashed them. 

Gladio was always so careful not to make a mess when Ignis was around; he never left anything out of place. If he’d left shards of ceramic on Ignis’ floor he must’ve been in agony.

And he must’ve really thought it wasn’t going to matter. 

Prompto’s chin wobbled as he got a broom and brushed the shards aside, but he fought back the tears. He didn’t want Ignis to hear him.

Getting the Ebony and water helped. It was something to do, and the chill of the glass and the smell of the coffee helped ground him in his body when he felt like he was about to float off into space.

Ignis smiled when Prompto brought the drinks, and Prompto found himself trying to memorise it. Trying to learn every line of that expression, so he’d be able to remember it when - when -

A knock at the door. Prompto scrubbed at his face. It wasn’t that he thought Cor would think badly of him for crying; it was more that if anyone else saw this, he thought he’d crack open. If anyone outside their circle knew this was happening, it would be real.

He opened the door and saw Cor’s face and of course, of course it was real.

“Kid,” Cor said, and Prompto crumpled backwards, shying away from the pain of that open sympathy. Cor followed him, kicking the door shut behind him, and dropped the medicine on the table. A moment later Prompto was caught in a tight hug. 

A moment of his body going taut and resistant and then he crumbled, clinging. He didn’t quite burst into tears; he just breathed, unsteadily, while Cor held him tight against his chest.

Prompto wondered blearily if Cor was looking for comfort, too.

Cor’s hand brushed over his hair, and Prompto jerked backwards, laughing unevenly. “Hey, hey, watch the mane!”

Cor’s laugh sounded hoarse. “Wouldn’t wanna damage your look.”

“Heaven forfend,” said Ignis. “How are you, Marshal?”

Cor’s back went soldier-straight as he turned towards the bed, heels almost clicking together. “Been better. I s’pose you’re the same.”

Prompto caught a hint of relief in Ignis’ wry smile; maybe it was easier to react to Cor’s military calm in the face of death than Prompto’s desperate attempt to fake it.

Cor got out the painkillers and Ignis swallowed them, throat jerking, his expression only now betraying the pain he must be in. Cor settled on the sofa, not quite with them but clearly unwilling to leave. Prompto curled up, legs against his chest, arms tight around his knees. 

The hours dragged past; without the sun it was hard to track them. He’d got used to doing it, but the dread fuzzed everything. Ignis slept, shallowly, then blinked awake. After a while he stopped waking as much. Prompto didn’t know if it was the medication or an effect of the Scourge, and he was too afraid to ask. He resented the loss of precious time with Ignis, time when Ignis was awake and alert - but they couldn’t make themselves talk, and besides, he was being selfish. Better if Ignis slept through the pain. 

But Ignis of all people would hate not to know what was happening. He didn’t know what to do.

He imagined Noct waking up, and looking for them, and finding only him and Gladio. Noct’s eyes peering past them, looking for a third who wouldn’t arrive.

It hurt, it hurt, he couldn’t think about it any more. Prompto’s mind scurried like a rat in a maze, searching for something less painful. Gladio would help Iris. They’d both get back alive, and that would be - even if it was just Prompto and Gladio at the bar the next time -

But what if it wasn’t? A cold terror gripped him at the thought. If Gladio didn’t come back, and Ignis was - Ignis was going - and Prompto would be alone.

Gladio was going out there into the darkness outside Lestallum, and Iris was facing something bad. The hunters were all trying not to use potions or elixirs on anything that wasn’t life-threatening; they didn’t bring many out with them at a time. Gods, if only Luna or Noct were still here, with their different healing powers. Now Ignis was dying and there was no one who could -

Almost no one.

Prompto swallowed.

“I’ve got an idea.”

“What?” Cor said.

Prompto blinked; he’d barely been aware he’d spoken the words out loud. “I - nothing.” But now it had occurred to him, the idea wouldn’t let go. Ardyn had magic. He could heal the Scourge. He could save Ignis.

Whether he _would_ was a different question. But surely there was something Ardyn wanted…

“I’ve got an idea,” he said again, louder. “Something that might cure Ignis. I need to go.”

Cor looked bewildered. “There’s nothing, Prompto. You know that.”

“No, seriously. I think I might - I should be able to do this. To bring back a cure.”

Cor was shaking his head, but Prompto kept talking.

“Can you stay with him? Please. Just until I get back. I need to leave the city - I’m not sure how long for. Not too long. Overnight.” 

Cor looked torn; he must know there was nothing, but maybe he thought the Crownsguard knew some secrets of Lucian magic from their time with Noct. Prompto hoped so; he couldn’t imagine trying to explain what he was thinking.

“I - I’ll do whatever you need, Prompto, for both of you. You know that. But are you sure this idea you have - are you sure it’ll work?”

“No,” said Prompto. “But I’m sure I’ve got to try.”

He approached the bed. Ignis was barely conscious, but he made a soft sound of recognition at Prompto’s voice. “Ignis,” he said quietly, taking Ignis’ hand, too far gone to feel awkward. “Iggy, I - I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. I’m gonna get you a cure, dude, or at least I’m gonna do my best. I’ll see you soon, all right?”

Ignis gave a slight nod, eyes still closed. Prompto swallowed, clutching at Iggy’s fingers, shuddering with silent pain. For a horrible moment he was grateful that Ignis was so out of it already. He could never explain what he was going to do, and besides - maybe if this didn’t work, Ignis would never really know Prompto had left.

He took Ignis’ car, the one his team drove, along with two potions and some gas. It was wild extravagance in these times, but he wasn’t going to risk not making it back.

And then he was driving out of Lestallum’s light, leaving it a fading glow behind him as he headed into the darkness.

He was following Gladio’s route, at first; Iris and her daemon weren’t too far away from Insomnia. Thank the gods, bastards that they were, that fast as Prompto was travelling he still didn’t see him.

He passed daemons constantly, but they didn’t approach the car. He was glad, gunning the engine to race down the black road; he didn’t have time to be slowed down. He’d go via Hammerhead, stop for a nap as short as he could make it and more gas, then rush on to Insomnia. 

To Ardyn.

The bastard would be laughing to see Prompto come running to him for help. Like he was a saviour.

His heart was banging in his chest. He turned on the music to drown out the sound of his own uneven breathing, and found one of Ignis’ favourites. Tears descended, hot and sudden, and he blinked them back furiously.

When the hobgoblin decided to try its luck, racing towards the car, it was almost a relief. Prompto stopped the car, unwilling to risk damaging it by barrelling into the daemon, and stood up in the seat just in time. It was almost on him, and adrenaline flipped his heart in his chest. But then he was shooting, aim true, and the daemon was stumbling backwards, propelled by the force of the bullets. Prompto didn’t hesitate.

There was catharsis in shooting down the hobgoblin, and the two daemons that came at him after it. He was a warrior; he’d fight what there was to fight. He’d done impossible things before.

But once he was back on the road, Prompto’s mouth was sour with panic. He’d lost time to the hobgoblin. He tried to remember the papers he’d found in Gralea, searching his memory for details of the Starscourge itself. How fast did the Scourge spread? How many days or hours or minutes could Ignis wait?

He couldn’t think about the chance that Ardyn would just say no. There must be something - some deal he could make. Even the gods let you make a deal sometimes.

But what would Ardyn want? What if it delayed him? What if Ardyn just kept him there, dangling, while time ran out?

What if Ardyn didn’t let him go back at all?

He knew Ardyn had led the others to rescue him. He suspected Ardyn, for whatever reasons of his own, had wanted him to take down Verstael. But that only made him more frightened - because Ardyn, inscrutable as his desires were, always got what he wanted.

And he was unpredictable, and cruel. Maybe he’d rather keep Prompto there, away from Iggy as he died, than help - even if it cost him Prompto’s co-operation. Maybe he’d try keeping Prompto in general.

His chest was tight with fear. It felt like the bands round his chest when Ardyn had held him in Gralea. 

Hitting Hammerhead was a relief and pain in one. Cindy came out to say hi, and Prompto couldn’t stand the idea of telling her, of dealing with that pain second-hand as well as everything else. So he hitched a smile onto his face, asking about Cid and the latest beauty of a vintage beast some hunters had brought in. Everything else he pushed to the back of his mind with the ease of long practice. The pile of emotion might be heavier and sharper than usual, but he could hold it back for long enough to fill up the car and cadge a spot to sleep for an hour or two.

Cindy left him to curl up in the back seat to sleep. He settled down, trying to relax enough to rest - he’d need it to get through. But Iggy’s car smelt like him, like rare spices and hair gel and Ebony, and the misery of that outweighed the comfort.

Prompto was exhausted by emotion, though, and between the eternal light of Lestallum and his hunter’s lifestyle, he’d gotten good at getting some sleep whenever he had a chance. He managed to doze off.

Flashes of his time in Ardyn’s hands kept returning to him, nudging their way through his shallow sleep. The rush of joy and relief when he’d seen Noct outside the fortress; Noct hugging him like everything was all right again, like he didn’t hate Prompto, and saying they’d go for the Crystal together.

The sick dread that had chilled him when he’d realised this Noct didn’t sound like Noct at all. The blue eyes going cold, and then how they’d fought, grappling for dominance as Prompto struggled to reach his gun. It had been like being caught in a nightmare, wrestling with Noct, trying to fight him; everything had been slowed by his horror.

It had been a relief when Ardyn went back to being himself. But abruptly Prompto was entirely overmatched, Ardyn huge and overbearing, laughing and pleased as Prompto struggled against him. Prompto had tried, desperately, to reach the gun Ardyn had kicked away. But it meant nothing. 

At Ardyn’s command, MTs had appeared out of nowhere - steel-on-stone footsteps and metal hands - and lifted Prompto off his feet. Taken him into the fortress, down endless corridors, and he’d struggled against their bruising grip and howled his outrage and known he’d never remember his way out.

They’d taken him into a cell and Ardyn had appeared at the bars, leaning against them, indolent and smiling. Watching with his gaze crawling over Prompto’s skin while the MTs forced him into place. Prompto had almost broken an arm resisting but they’d still strapped him into the frame; he’d flinched from their masks even as he tried to fight, terrified of looking into the eyeholes and seeing his own eyes looking back at him. 

Ardyn had sent them away, and he’d felt a moment of bone-melting relief before Ardyn was in the cell with him. He’d wished desperately for the others; he wouldn’t want them in this situation, but it made his heart freeze to be the sole target of Ardyn’s attention. And no one knew he was here. No one knew to come for him, even if they’d wanted to.

Blurry awareness rose through his shallow dreams: he was doing that to himself, this time. Cor and Gladio didn’t know where he was going.

Ardyn had spent time with him, while he’d hung there, arms aching and shoulders screaming for relief. Stroking his face and hair, choking him, hurting him, talking to him.

He’d kissed Prompto once, heated and terrifying. His mouth was vicious, but he’d never gone further. Prompto had been rescued first.

The worry on Noct’s face, Noct promising to obliterate the very idea of borders if it would help -

He remembered shooting Ardyn again and again, and nothing happening. They’d done everything they could - Noct had had the ring - and Ardyn had still survived.

Gods, he was an idiot. To be walking back into that…

Prompto’s eyes opened in the darkness. He wasn’t sure when he’d woken up, or if he’d slept at all; had they been dreams or flashbacks or just him turning over the rocks of his memories in his mind, seeing what lay underneath in the dark? Either way, Ignis needed him to get going. And Prompto couldn’t lie there any more.

He scrambled into the front seat, saluted Cindy as she rounded a corner, and fishtailed out of the garage. 

Being on the road and making progress again helped a little, but the hypnotic rush of black road amidst a black world still left him too much room to think. Prompto swallowed dryly and fought back the panic. It was clanging in his mind as he spiralled through all the horrible possibilities; his breath was stuttering, his pulse pounding in his ears even beyond the rush of wind as he drove.

Thankfully, the driving took more and more of his focus as he went. His eyes grew tired and sore; he blinked, trying to stay alert. He was aware of the daemons he was passing, and they’d certainly be aware of him.

The mix of the desperate need to reach Insomnia and the dread of actually getting there, combined with the endless night, robbed him of any real sense of time passing. It felt surreal, to be back there after so long. His chest clenched as he entered the half-destroyed city, the wreckage of his childhood passing on either side. 

The car bounced painfully over potholes and wrecked roads, making him wince at the sounds. The jerks reverberating through his spine would be nothing to what Cindy would put him through for messing up Ignis’ car. But he didn’t have time to fight his way through the daemons; he needed to get as close as he could to the palace.

And there did, oddly, seem to be a way there. Every time he thought he’d have to get out and fight his way through, he’d see another corner worth taking, another clear bit of road. 

He remembered what the others had said about rescuing him from Gralea - how Ardyn had cleared the way ahead of them. His pulse thundered in his throat.

And the citadel was rising above him, higher and higher as he got closer.

Prompto remembered when the palace had scared him. He’d gone there to see Noct a few times, before Noct had got his own apartment, and then regularly for Crownsguard training. He’d been frightened: of making mistakes and somehow ruining his friendship with Noct, or of someone seeing his barcode and knowing he wasn’t born a Lucian. Looking at him and _knowing_ somehow that he wasn’t meant to be there; wasn’t good enough.

But even then, the palace hadn’t loomed blackly like this. Regis had had the power; it had been his magic that had infused the place. And though he’d been intimidating, he was never cruel.

Noct would be sick to see his father’s palace turned to this. Anger washed through Prompto at the thought, and he clung to the rage, tried to let its heat carry him through as fear threatened to freeze him in his seat.

The backs of his knees quivered as he got out of the car and approached the palace. Prompto pushed open the gate with a painful squeak of metal and flinched, even though he was sure Ardyn knew he was here. He could feel Ardyn thinking about him, maybe watching him through some security camera.

He walked into the Citadel alone. It was the kind of strange that made his teeth hurt, and he bitterly missed Noct at his side. But then if Noct had been there, he wouldn’t have had to come to Ardyn.

The palace seemed bigger without Noct there, without their voices echoing too-loudly off the marble. The lights were on; Ardyn must be home.

He’d thought he might get lost - he’d almost never been in the throne room. But the corridors were lit along his route, and he only needed to follow. Even the elevators were working. He tasted coppery panic as the doors closed and he was taken up.

He was caught in the kind of fear that made time blink and distort; in a moment, he was in front of the great doors to the throne room.

There was dead silence. ‘Dead’ was the word for it; there was nothing left living in Insomnia, except for him, and whatever semblance of a living person was waiting on the other side of the door.

Prompto was sure he could feel Ardyn waiting for him. He could almost hear him breathing.

His whole body pricked with gooseflesh.

He screwed his eyes shut and pictured Iggy’s face and pushed the doors open.

The room was wrecked and vast and empty. It should’ve felt echoingly hollow, but it didn’t. Because Ardyn was draped across the throne, watching him and smiling, and the force of his personality filled the room. It pushed at the walls.

Prompto wished Ardyn looked even a little surprised to see him.

“Hello, my dear. Back with me, are you?”

“No,” Prompto blurted. Ardyn raised an expressive eyebrow; the movement was visible from across the room. _But here you are,_ that eyebrow said. _With me._

Prompto registered the feeling of the doors against his back. No - he wasn’t going to cower. He couldn’t. Ignis needed him.

He stormed across the throne room like an invading army, walking like he was facing a daemon. His hands itched for his gun. He stopped in front of the stairs up the throne, glowering up the endless height to Ardyn.

“Why don’t you come up here and have a chat?”

“I can do it just fine from down here.”

“Antagonising me already?”

Prompto hesitated. “I don’t want to.” He hoped it sounded more angry than petulant.

Ardyn snickered. “If what you wanted was the priority, I rather think you wouldn’t be here.”

Ardyn was right, the bastard, so Prompto came up the stairs, climbing to meet him. Maybe it would even be better, not being so far down compared to Ardyn on his throne. On Noct’s throne.

He stopped one flight of stairs up, and tried to take control. “I’m here to make a deal. You can cure the Starscourge, can’t you?”

Ardyn’s smile was so cold and false it made him look like a death mask. “If I so choose.”

“I - can you give me a potion? It doesn’t need to be face-to-face?”

“Not for me. Years of practice, you know.”

“So - I need one. Make me one. More, maybe.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re getting more than one out of me. Not in the time you have to save your friend.”

Prompto swallowed.

“Come all the way up here. We can hardly make a deal like this.”

Prompto glared, but obeyed. His skin crawled as he got closer. Ardyn stayed draped over Regis’ throne, eyes bright under the shadow of that damn hat, watching him. 

“Oh, my dear boy,” said Ardyn. “You look simply exhausted. Would you like a potion? Something to perk you up a bit?”

Prompto flinched. “No.” He reached the top, and he found himself as far back as he could go on the throne’s narrow platform. Having his back to all that yawning space felt better than being within arm’s reach of Ardyn.

“Just the cure, then?”

Prompto nodded. 

“Hmm. And you’d do anything for that cure?”

He glared, silent, and didn’t drop his eyes. He couldn’t make himself say yes.

“Well?”

“You know I would,” he grated out.

Prompto caught an unexpected flare of anger in Ardyn’s eyes, and flinched; he’d thought Ardyn relishing every moment of this was bad, but anger was worse.

“Ah, of course. You’ll do anything for each other, won’t you? One for all and all for one. How very noble.” Ardyn was still speaking in his theatrical cadence, still smiling, but there was something jagged under the words. Prompto didn’t know what to say. Ardyn’s gaze swept over him, up and down, and Prompto shuddered under it.

“And yet - perhaps not. All alone?” said Ardyn. “Where are your brave brothers-in-arms? Or - I suppose you’re down to just the one, aren’t you. Where’s he?”

Prompto flinched, but spoke with false bravado anyway. “I’ve faced you alone before.”

“Yes you have,” Ardyn said, a ghastly smile lighting his face. He hopped off his throne, coming closer, and Prompto attempted a step back before realising there was nowhere else to go. “And weren’t you _brave_! Glowering so ferociously, though you must have known that you couldn’t have stopped me from doing a thing. It was _delicious_.”

Prompto shuddered, repulsed by the knowledge that Ardyn was taking such pleasure - that kind of pleasure - from his defiance.

“But wait! I tell a lie. You weren’t brave for all of it, were you?” Ardyn was approaching like a predator, and Prompto turned with him, sliding away from the ledge, unwilling to let him get close. Ardyn kept circling nearer. “Though still sweet. When you so bravely told me you were a Magitek, lips quivering - ”

“Shut up!”

“And I said you were a traitor - ”

“Shut up, you bastard!”

“And you cried. And begged me to take it back - ”

“I thought you were Noct!” His yell rang around the empty throne room.

“We’re so alike in some ways.”

Prompto recoiled, physically appalled by that comparison. The movement seemed to goad Ardyn: his eyes flashed, and he grabbed for Prompto. Prompto flinched back instinctively, but he hesitated for half a moment - if he ran, would Ardyn still help him? - and then it was too late. Ardyn dragged Prompto against him, pressing their bodies together. “Not least,” Ardyn said, smooth voice suddenly a growl, “in that soon we’ll _both_ know what you sound like when you come.”

Prompto cried out in horror, struggling. “Fuck off, you - ”

“Sweet boy.” Ardyn had one arm round him, and the other hand was abruptly buried in his hair, jerking tears into his eyes. “You want a potion to heal your friend?”

“Get off - ”

“Then you’ll need to make me happy.”

“You want - you want to - ”

Ardyn smiled ferociously, his face inches away, and refused to say the words. Letting the silence lengthen. Making Prompto be the one to say it.

“You’ll give me the potion if I let you f-fuck me?”

Ardyn slapped him without letting go of his hair. Prompto’s ears rang with it.

“Crude.”

“Oh, what sh-should I have said - ”

“This is the deal. Accept it - or leave.”

Prompto swallowed. “You made a deal with King Regis. How do I know you won’t screw me over too?”

“I would have honoured the bargain I suggested with your friend Ignis, if he’d been willing.” Ardyn took in Prompto’s expression. “All right.” He let go of Prompto, and Prompto shot backwards, banging painfully into the side of the throne. Ardyn produced a bottle in a flash of colour, and held it up. “One potion for the curing of the Scourge, ready and waiting. And all you need to do is obey.”

Prompto stared at it. Could he grab it and run?

But Ardyn could warp, he’d done it after Noct was taken by the Crystal. And once Prompto was in range of those arms - Prompto was faster but it wouldn’t be enough -

Ardyn knew what he was thinking. Prompto could tell from his expression; he was smirking as he watched Prompto calculate the odds, knowing what his decision would be.

Ardyn put the potion on one arm of the throne. Prompto swallowed. He edged away from his side of the throne as Ardyn took his place there again, leaning on one elbow. His other hand was around the neck of the potion bottle, thumb playing with the stopper. A silent threat.

Prompto should say out loud that he’d do it. Should distract Ardyn from messing with the potion. He couldn’t make himself.

“Well, then. Kneel for your king.”

Prompto snarled. “You’re not my - ”

“You don’t want to irritate me before we’ve even begun, do you? Imagine how creative I could be in having you fulfil the terms.” Prompto shuddered, hating that Ardyn could see him react, that Ardyn knew how scared he was. “You’ve come to ask a boon of the current King of Lucis, in Noctis’ absence.” Prompto cringed at hearing Noct’s name from Ardyn’s lips. “We should follow the formalities. On your knees.”

His hands were twitching for his gun. The humiliation burnt through him, leaving rage in its wake. One day he was going to shoot this motherfucker for daring to sit in Noct’s seat and call it his, and if Ardyn got up from it? That’d just be an opportunity to do it again.

He sank to his knees.

“Good. Now, whatever should I ask of you?”

“Don’t play with me,” Prompto spat, and immediately winced - the words felt ridiculous, when they both knew what Ardyn was like. 

Ardyn was always tall, but this was so much worse. Prompto had to crane his neck to meet Ardyn’s eyes, now. Ardyn’s eyes dropped for a moment to his exposed throat.

“Straight down to business, then. Allow me to confirm: you do agree? A few hours with me, doing anything I wish, and then you’ll return to your friends with the potion in hand. You promise to obey?”

He nodded.

“Aloud, if you please.”

“I - you’ll give me the potion. And I’ll o-obey.”

“Marvellous.” Ardyn cocked his head, looking down at him. “Come a little closer, if you would.”

Prompto swallowed the nausea back as Ardyn spread his legs. He swayed closer, still on his knees. Ardyn crooked a finger, and Prompto obeyed the wordless summons, edging nearer until his shoulders were nudging Ardyn’s knees.

He was going to have to suck Ardyn off. Prompto’s stomach was tight with fear and disgust. 

Something nudged his hair and he flinched.

“Ssh. Calm down, darling.”

He felt his upper lip peel back from his teeth. He knew Ardyn would only think it was funny, only make him want to patronise Prompto more, but he couldn’t help it. Ardyn smiled down into his glowering face and stroked a hand over his hair.

He froze, uncertain and still furious. What was Ardyn doing? 

Ardyn kept stroking his hair, soft and repetitive and unpleasantly intimate. It was better than what he’d expected, but he hated the idea of being grateful for it. And it felt - felt too close, like Ardyn pretending to be a lover. Ardyn tugged a little at Prompto’s hair, then snickered softly at Prompto’s flinch.

Ardyn stroked a thumb across Prompto’s forehead, as if to wipe away the tension there. Prompto snarled again; having Ardyn’s hand so close to his face called up an animalistic urge to bite. Ardyn kept caressing him, hair and along one eyebrow and cheekbones and jaw. It felt like he was taking possession. Like Prompto would leave with Ardyn’s mark, invisible but thick, all over him.

Ardyn’s thumb touched his mouth and Prompto flinched backwards.

Ardyn raised his eyebrows and waited, unmoving, hand still outstretched. He said nothing, but his eyes were stormclouds. Prompto swallowed and moved back into place, raising his face for Ardyn to touch him, cringing.

“Ah, that’s better. There, now, why don’t you relax?” Ardyn crooned. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

Prompto glared.

“Well, if you’re determined not to have any fun…” Ardyn slapped him again, a careless flick of the wrist that knocked him to the ground. Prompto heaved himself back to his knees, away from the chill of marble against his cheek. “Off with the jacket and t-shirt, if you please.”

Prompto’s mouth screwed up in distress, but he obeyed, trying to move quickly so he didn’t feel like he was - well, stripping. He could feel Ardyn’s eyes on him though, drinking in every movement, and it didn’t matter how workmanlike he tried to be. 

He folded his arms around his body, trying to shield himself, and Ardyn tutted. “There’s no point in trying to hide, my boy. You _did_ come to me.”

Prompto didn’t move and Ardyn reached for his wrist.

Prompto reacted a moment too late, and then his right wrist was caught in a bruising grip. He struggled automatically, frantically, but Ardyn barely seemed to notice. 

Ardyn’s voice was calm and almost sweet, but his brutal grip made Prompto cry out. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

The knowledge that it was true only made things worse. He tugged fruitlessly, desperately, as Ardyn slid off the wristband, leaving pale skin and black lines exposed.

“There we are.” Ardyn bent his head, and pressed a kiss to Prompto’s barcode.

“No - no - ” His chest heaved. He was breathing like he was running; he wished it was true. 

“You already agreed! I thought the Crownsguard were men of their word.” Ardyn let go, and Prompto jerked his wrist back like he’d been burnt then fumbled his way to his feet. “Perhaps I’d best make sure of you. Out of those very tight trousers, now.”

Prompto sucked in oxygen slowly, trying not to go dizzy. He couldn’t bear to look at Ardyn’s face as he undid his belt and toed out of his boots. Instead he kept his eyes fixed on the potion that was going to save Ignis’ life.

He stumbled as he got his pants off, and Ardyn chuckled.

He shut his eyes as his briefs dropped with everything else, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He could feel his cheeks heat with a near-painful blush; it’d be spreading down his chest, he knew, embarrassingly visible against his pale skin. Ardyn drew out the moment like taffy, his gaze stiflingly hot on Prompto’s body.

“Lovely. Come here, my dear.”

He edged closer.

“There’s no point in playing coy, you know.” Ardyn slid a hand over his hip, touch scorching against the cool air of the throne room. “You are whoring yourself out.”

“For the potion,” Prompto said tightly. “You’re not subtle, don’t think you can make me ashamed - ”

“Oh,” Ardyn said, hand stroking up his stomach and chest, “you’ve nothing to be ashamed of.” He clicked his tongue, like calling an animal. Prompto didn’t want to respond, but humiliation was better than the other options; he obeyed the summons, shifting closer. He found himself obeying Ardyn’s hands until he was edging his knees onto the throne, then straddling Ardyn. He was horrifyingly open to Ardyn’s hands, knees held apart by Ardyn’s thighs; he was so close he could _smell_ him, a choking woody musk. Prompto didn’t know what to do with his hands; he rested them on his own thighs in the end, not wanting to touch Ardyn.

He couldn’t make himself look into Ardyn’s face, so he looked at his shirt, and traced the patterns of his scarf with his eyes. He tried not to feel Ardyn’s large hands rubbing their way down his back, smoothing over his chest, thumbing a nipple. Taking their time, learning the shape of him. Tried not to hear Ardyn’s praise: “aren’t you pretty? All these freckles are so very charming. Oh, I’ve mourned the loss of the opportunity to play when your friends rescued you, you know. I did enjoy how you cried out, but I’m going to make you cry out so very differently now.”

Prompto yelped as Ardyn caressed his soft cock, flinching back. Ardyn caught him in place with a hot palm against Prompto’s back, and rummaged in his coat with the other hand. Out of one of the innumerable pockets appeared some lube.

A bunch of stupid jokes filled his mind immediately. Always _come_ prepared, I guess - I always knew you were slippery - aren’t you gonna - 

They were knocked from his brain as big hands slid down his back, then groped and squeezed his ass. Prompto flinched, biting his lip, holding himself still with every drop of willpower in his body as Ardyn - _Ardyn_ , it was Ardyn - stroked between his cheeks, sending horrifyingly intimate little shivers through him as a fingertip brushed his hole.

“Look at me.”

It took him a moment, but he did it. “There you are,” Ardyn said, brown eyes empty of emotion yet somehow alight, and then he changed.

A disorienting jolt as the man beneath him shrunk, the clothes changing, and suddenly it was _Noct_.

Prompto jerked backwards, crying out in horror and rage. He tried shoving away, but ‘Noct’ caught his arms, holding him in place with inhuman strength. “Now now, you don’t want to fight me. It’s this or be taken dry.”

“Shut up, shut up,” Prompto yelled, barely aware of the words coming out of his own mouth. It had been years of missing Noct, of wanting to see his face, see him awake, hear his voice. This parody of those desires was unbearable. He jerked in Noct’s arms, unable to stop fighting. Held so close to Noct’s body, his vision full of the feathering of black hair around a face Prompto knew by heart - 

Noct slapped him - Ardyn slapped him - and Prompto stilled from sheer surprise. “Hold still and stop panicking. It’s all right, darling, stop worrying.”

He kept shaking his head, distress straining his voice. “No, no - ”

“Didn’t you miss me?” The cadence was all wrong but it was still Noct’s voice, still Noct’s face looking theatrically wounded. “Don’t you want me?”

“Stop it! He wouldn’t - please, please.” And now he was begging, shamefully. “Please don’t - ”

“You’d rather my real face, then? While I - ”

“Yes! Don’t you fucking dare use his.” Prompto closed his eyes, unable to bear Ardyn looking out of Noct’s blue eyes. “You don’t get to do this, you don’t get to make this one more thing you’ve stolen from him - ”

“Oh, but you’re terribly sweet when you’re begging. I wonder if I can make you cry.” Prompto clung to the words, to the way Noct never would’ve wanted to hurt him. “I’ll need something else in exchange. Would you like me to appear as someone else?” A shift under him as Ardyn changed again, and then it was Ignis’ voice; the accented smoothness was the same, the hint of mischief, but there was none of Ignis’ kindness there. “You clearly love me, look at the _dreadful_ things you’re willing to do for me.” Fingers pressed against his hole, not quite penetrating yet, and Prompto’s whole body clenched.

“Stop it! Just - just be you.”

After a moment’s pause, Ignis’ voice said, “a request I haven’t had in quite some time. You’re sure you wouldn’t prefer Gladio?”

“Please,” Prompto said, hoping Ardyn couldn’t hear the tears in his voice. “Please, you bastard, just - just be you.”

Gladio’s deep voice said, “so charming when you plead with me.” Prompto cried out, hopeless and enraged, as he felt Gladio’s sword-calloused hands against his skin. Gladio laughed, but it changed as it went on, until it was Ardyn.

He blinked his wet eyes open, and slumped a little with relief to find Ardyn there. Bizarre.

Ardyn smirked at him. One hand lifted from cupping Prompto’s ass to touch his face. Prompto shivered at the unwanted intimacy as Ardyn stroked a thumb across his tearstained cheek, then withdrew his hand, lips pursing as he kissed Prompto’s tears off his thumb. Tasting them.

_Drama queen._

Prompto almost laughed at the thought.

“Now, what else shall I ask for?” Ardyn said. He seemed to be thinking out loud, but Prompto had the distinct impression that he already knew what he wanted, and was just toying with him - just drawing out the moment to watch dread tighten Prompto’s features. Ardyn hummed thoughtfully as he got out the lube again. Prompto felt his whole body clench, aching with the tension, as Ardyn’s hands squeezed his ass. He bit his lip and held himself still, forcing himself not to fight, as slick fingertips rubbed over his hole.

He made a small, choked sound as Ardyn pressed a finger inside. Gods, no. Ardyn was _inside_ him. Ardyn was smirking at him, face inches away, as he stroked Prompto inside. Waking up his nerves, softening him up, feeling his way into him. Prompto clenched around Ardyn’s fingers involuntarily, trying to stop the violation, and Ardyn grinned. “What a treat you are.”

Prompto forced down a growl. He wanted to punch and kick and fight. He remembered breaking MTs’ necks, and how the sensation had given him nightmares even before he knew what he was. But he’d never regretted it, and now his fingers itched to try.

But he couldn’t take that risk, he couldn’t. The potion bottle was so fragile, and there was no one else who could heal Ignis.

Ardyn seemed to sense what he was thinking. “It’s dreadful to need someone, isn’t it? So terribly helpless. That’s why I never need anyone.”

“Because n-no one would - ” He broke off, sucking in a breath, as Ardyn pressed another fingertip inside. He was unbearably gentle, and Prompto sneered even as his lower lip wobbled. “Because no one would help you. No one would want to.”

Ardyn’s face didn’t change, but the reaction was there: in his eyes, and in his other hand clenching painfully into Prompto’s skin. Then Ardyn blinked, and the rage was banked again. He kept fingering Prompto, slow and smooth. “Well, no matter,” Ardyn said. “Fear works just as well as love - better, in my experience.” He stroked and flexed his fingers inside Prompto, luxurious, and Prompto felt his cock twitch. “Just look at you. You’re going to be lovely and tight.”

Prompto’s face twisted in disgust, and Ardyn laughed. “But you’re starting to enjoy yourself, I think. Hmm?” 

Prompto shut his eyes, unable to look at him. It was true. His stomach was cramped with horror and fear and revulsion - but lust was starting to trickle into him, as well. It meant nothing, it was nothing, it was purely physical. But Ardyn knew what he was doing, his fingers inside Prompto making his muscles relax, gentle and heated and good. Horribly good.

Ardyn laughed. “Well, you needn’t look at me. Luckily, my boy, your body speaks for you in this regard.” Fingers brushed his cock. It was already starting to harden.

Just a little. The cold and the terror were powerful. But it was happening.

“I do believe I’ve thought of what I want. If I’m going to be me during our little assignation. It’s terribly unimaginative of you, you know, when I’m able to provide so many options to my lovers.” A third finger working its way inside. “But since I’m to be myself, you’ll need to address me as such.”

The glee in Ardyn’s voice frightened him, and Prompto opened his eyes. He wanted to see what was coming. Ardyn smiled at him with smug brown eyes.

“You’ll call me ‘Your Majesty’.”

“No,” Prompto said without thinking. 

Fingernails scored his thigh, and he grunted, jerking away - as far as he could, which wasn’t much.

“No?” Ardyn’s voice was light, but that made it no less dangerous.

“I mean - I - oh, fuck, I - _Noct_ ’s my king! Not you!” He couldn’t control it, he couldn’t. Couldn’t hold in the anger. “You’re just some - some thieving shit, you don’t get to - ”

The potion bottle clinked dangerously. Ardyn dangled it over the arm of the throne with his free hand.

“On the contrary, my dear Prompto. This is my birthright. And I’ll hear you recognise it.”

His shoulders heaved as he tried to master the rage. It was hot and painful, scratching inside his chest. He hated him, _hated_ him. 

Ardyn’s fingers flexed inside him. 

Gods, he couldn’t let this matter. Noct would never forgive him, if Prompto let anger on his behalf cost him Ignis’ life.

“Fine,” he ground out.

Ardyn looked delighted. “Fine…?”

“Your Majesty.”

“Oh, yes.” It was a bare whisper. Prompto shuddered; Ardyn was getting off on this. It couldn’t be more obvious.

The unhurried fingers inside him were preparing his body to take Ardyn’s cock. He despised the thought of it. 

But that didn’t change the fact that the sensations themselves… Ardyn knew what he was doing. Knew how to coax Prompto’s body into arousal, to gently nudge him into responding. It was slick and slow, sparking pleasure inside him, nudging against his sweet spot to make him gasp. It wasn’t rough; it didn’t hurt. That made it no less cruel.

“Am I better at this than Noctis was? You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Prompto snarled; felt himself tighten around Ardyn’s fingers as his body tautened with rage. Ardyn actually moaned a little at the feeling.

“Oh, you’re so delicious. I can barely hold myself back, truth be told. But I do want you to _enjoy_ yourself, you know. And you’re starting to…” Ardyn’s other hand took hold of Prompto’s half-hard cock and stroked him gently. “I know you’ll remember this. Remember me inside you.” Fingers thrust in and out, slow and relentless. Prompto breathed in through his mouth and tried not to cry. “Remember me stroking you.” Ardyn’s hands moved in concert; there was no way to escape. Ardyn’s smell and smile and touch surrounded him. “I do want it to be a good memory.”

Ardyn leant forward, mouth opening, and took Prompto’s nipple between his teeth. Prompto jerked, a rough noise escaping him - surprise and anger and distress, all at once, and the undercurrent of arousal. Ardyn’s tongue was hot and rough, and it was all so much sensation. His cock thickened, hardening under Ardyn’s touch. He gave a quiet, unhappy moan, and tried twitching away. He couldn’t.

Ardyn bit him, sharp and vicious, and Prompto cried out, jerking against his hands. Ardyn held on - just to show he could, Prompto was sure - then drew back. 

“Oh, sweet boy. There you are. I always knew you’d be a treat.”

A swirl of scarlet magic, and Ardyn was naked. Gods, gods, was this better or worse -

Ardyn removed his hands, and there was a moment of relief. But Ardyn’s eyes were a violation in themselves, alight as they looked at him. Ardyn’s gaze lingered on his hard, flushed cock. “Oh, you are enjoying this. I’m so glad.”

“I’m not!”

“I’m not, _your Majesty_.”

“Your Majesty. I’m just - you just - ”

“Well, whatever you say. Now, come here. I’m not going to do all the work, you know.”

Prompto swallowed thickly. He glanced down, trying to position himself without having to see much of Ardyn, not wanting to carry that memory with him. He took hold of Ardyn’s cock to position himself, and a huff escaped Ardyn’s lips. He hadn’t been lying about wanting Prompto.

Prompto lined himself up, and sank down. 

Ardyn felt big, but he’d been well-prepared. Almost the worst part was that it went smooth; Prompto was slick and open, and soon Ardyn was fully inside him, sunk to the root.

“Oh, that’s good.” Ardyn sounded breathless, a bit less in control. But there was scant satisfaction in the thought when it was because - he couldn’t finish the thought, sensation taking up his brain. “Oh, you’re just made for this, aren’t you? Taking me so easy and sweet. Such a good boy.” He leant forward, lips closing softly round Prompto’s earlobe, and Prompto shuddered miserably as delicious sensation surged through his body. “Now, move,” Ardyn breathed. “I want to see you work.” 

Prompto sucked in a breath, and obeyed, lifting himself then dropping again. 

“Just to be clear, dearest. This little ride doesn’t end when I come. It ends when you do.”

He made a horrified sound of disbelief, beyond words, and Ardyn laughed.

“Well, you’re so pretty. Such a beautiful boy. I’m looking forward to seeing you come around me.” He was stroking Prompto’s cock, making him shudder with pleasure he couldn’t escape. Ardyn grinned savagely as Prompto moaned. “You’re even lovelier when you’re falling apart… I remember Gralea well.” Prompto’s whole body tightened at the images that drew up, the memories of pain, and Ardyn grunted as he clenched round his cock. “And we were interrupted.”

“You think y-you can make me come?” His voice stuttered and shuddered over the words as Ardyn plucked at his nipples, playing with him with a proprietary air. His nipples hardened under Ardyn’s touch, and he gasped and twitched at the jolts of pleasure. Prompto snarled helplessly. “You’re out of your mind. Your Majesty.”

“You’re the one who came to me,” Ardyn said. There were two spots of colour high on his cheeks, and he was breathing harder. But he was still in control, rolling his hips lazily but letting Prompto do the work. Letting him force himself down on Ardyn’s cock with each thrust, knowing he was doing it to himself. “You didn’t need to.”

“Like I could’ve let Ignis die!”

“Of course.” Ardyn’s voice was somehow flat, like his eyes. “One could never allow someone being attacked by daemons from within to simply wither away, or worse. To let a person suffer that fate unprotected… you would never allow that to happen to him.”

It was supposed to be taunting, but it helped. He was doing this for a reason. It was going to work. Prompto even made himself speed up; the faster this was done, the faster Ignis was healed. He couldn’t think about what was happening. He’d just… let the tension draw tighter, let the heat and sensation work on him. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Prompto cringed from the praise, closing his eyes, but he couldn’t escape Ardyn’s hands: pumping his cock slowly, tugging gently at his nipple, stroking across his sensitive lower back, playing with his balls. Seeking out every secret his body had. “Such a very good boy. Oh, you like to be praised, don’t you? I can feel it.” Prompto made a horrified sound. But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop, there was nothing but bouncing on Ardyn, slick and hot and open, until it was done. Ardyn’s cock making liquid pleasure catch and drag inside him, the inescapable pressure and pleasure of it. “You’re going to remember this when we see each other again, aren’t you? The next time we face each other… you’ll remember this.” A thumb rubbed slowly over his slit, and a groan of unwilling arousal became a moan of humiliation as Ardyn laughed. “You’ll see me smile, and know what I’m remembering.” 

“Don’t.” He paused, hating himself, but please - “don’t, your Majesty.”

Ardyn laughed. His searing-hot breath on Prompto’s neck preceded the scratch of scruff and Ardyn’s mouth open against his skin, kissing him, sucking a mark onto him. It felt _good_ , shudderingly good, and Ardyn chuckled against his skin as pre-come slicked the hand on Prompto’s cock. He was going to come. There was no way around it, his body was drawing up tight, and Ardyn was making him keep up the rhythm, keep pushing towards it. Heat was tightening his stomach, pleasure pushing its way through him. He was caught between mouth and hands and cock, with no escape possible from the way Ardyn’s clever touch made him shiver, the sensations Ardyn was pouring into him.

“So good. So very beautiful. Come on, then. Let me see you, give - ”

Prompto came with a helpless wail, his whole body tightening into a knot, then releasing. The orgasm hit him in shuddering waves, wringing him out, and Ardyn was laughing breathlessly, exultantly, watching him fall apart. Ardyn didn’t back off, fucking him all through it, with heavy thrusts and hands on his hips to make him keep bouncing, keep working himself on Ardyn’s cock, juddering with aftershocks as little cries escaped him. Ardyn’s hand returned to his softening cock, and jerked it a little. Prompto’s whole body clenched as he cried out, oversensitive. Ardyn snickered and let go.

Ardyn was still hard inside him. Eventually Prompto made himself open his eyes, and found Ardyn bright-eyed and sweating. “Beautiful.”

Prompto knelt up, letting Ardyn’s cock slip out of him. Ardyn allowed it, but drew him in with a hand in his hair, pulling him close for a kiss. The heat of his mouth, the scruff against Prompto’s skin, the teeth stinging his lower lip and the soft sucking pressure - 

It was too much, too much, he was meant to be done. Prompto struggled, moaning his distress against Ardyn’s mouth. Ardyn’s hand tightened in his hair, refusing to let him escape. Prompto bit.

A smashing sound.

Ardyn let Prompto escape, then, let him turn to see the broken flask on the floor. Prompto cried out, flailing his way out of Ardyn’s lap. He dropped to his knees besides the shards of glass as if he could scrape the potion off the marble. It was dissolved already. Gone, gone -

“No! I did what you wanted! I gave you what you wanted, please!”

“You promised obedience.”

“I’ll be obedient. Give me another chance, p-please! Please, your Majesty!” He stared up from his knees, wringing his hands, frantic. Ardyn considered.

“You’ll have to be punished.”

His breath caught in his chest, fear and hope intermingled.

“I - yes. Yes, of course, your - your Majesty. Just, please, I have to get back soon or it’ll be too late - ”

“You needn’t worry. I have a certain talent for manipulating time, if it should become necessary.”

Ardyn stood, suddenly so tall he blocked out the light, and drew a cane from the air.

“On your feet then. Put your hands on the arms of the throne - yes, there - and bend over. There we are.”

He was shivering as he obeyed, staring at the seat of the throne. The humiliation of presenting his fucked ass to Ardyn was easier to bear than the fear, but still made him feel sick, and -

He cried out at the first hit. He managed to strangle it back for the second, and third, not wanting to give Ardyn the satisfaction; then the fourth stripe overlapped with the third, and he wailed.

Every time the crop hit, the tip wrapped round and bit into his flesh. His body was still sensitive from orgasm, the shudders barely receded. It hurt, it hurt, and making himself hold still and wait for it, knowing what was coming, was unbearable.

A few heavy footsteps, and then Ardyn switched sides. “I want to leave this nice and balanced,” he said, voice even as the cane whipped through the air and Prompto cried out. It was flame licking at his skin; there was no room for anything else in his brain, nothing but the hurt and waiting for the next blow. “I take pride in doing this well, you know. I want all these pretty red lines even. Perhaps I should take a leaf out of your book and take some photos.” The cane hit the fleshy underside of his ass and he yelped, dancing in place. Ardyn gave him no time to recover before the next hit, precise and savage, and Prompto howled.

“Oh, but how could photos do this justice?” Prompto blinked away tears, shaking. Grateful that at least Ardyn didn’t seem to want him to answer; he was just enjoying the sound of his own voice. “The sounds, you know. The way you’re trembling.” More blows, overlapping old welts. Prompto was mauling his lower lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction. He moaned low in his throat as Ardyn took aim at the flesh of his thighs. It felt like he was being sliced open.

Ardyn’s hand, huge and shockingly warm, stroked his ass. Prompto jerked away, then made himself hold still as Ardyn rubbed his way across the hot welts, greed in every touch. It hurt; even though Ardyn was gentle, it just kept the agony of the cane alive. “Delicious.” 

He burst into tears, finally, shoulders bowing under the weight of it. “Oh, my darling,” Ardyn crooned. “Should you like a hug?”

He shook his head.

“Well, all right.” The touches didn’t end; Ardyn stroked his way down to Prompto’s thighs, possessive. He hated that he couldn’t see Ardyn, couldn’t predict what he was about to do - but he couldn’t look at him right now. Better to stand there and shake and let Ardyn touch him all over. “I must remind you, though…” Ardyn’s fingers groped him, squeezing his ass until he yelped, and then made their way between his cheeks. Found his hot, fucked-open hole. “You have yet to finish me off, my dear.”

Prompto made a choked sound, fingers clenching on the arms of the throne, as Ardyn stroked his rim. Then the fingers were pushing back inside once more. “Oh, you’re so sensitive. So responsive. Your friends must enjoy that about you, no? How nice for Noct and I to have something else in common.”

“Don’t talk about him,” Prompto snarled wetly, “you fucking - ”

Ardyn delivered a smack with his free hand, lighting up the welts; Prompto gave a choked scream. Ardyn tutted. Then he finally withdrew his fingers with a humiliating wet sound. “Time for you to put that filthy mouth to use.”

A heavy hand pushed at him, and Prompto stumbled aside. His legs were nerveless. Everything was the pain, the flame of it burning him. Ardyn sat, taking ownership of his throne, seeming no less powerful for the lack of clothes. “On your knees, Crownsguard.”

Prompto obeyed, awkward and pained, yelping through his teeth when his heels brushed his caned ass. He jolted back up on his knees, sore as fuck, and caught Ardyn’s eyes on him, drinking in his pain avidly.

Bastard, bastard.

A flash of magic at Ardyn’s crotch. “Nice and clean. Come on now, no more stalling.” Ardyn’s cock was heavy and flushed with blood; he must be desperate. Six, Prompto was going to remember what Ardyn’s cock looked like for the rest of his life - what it _tasted_ like -

Ardyn’s hand slid into his hair, stroking, but didn’t pull. “Come now. Are you going to make me force you? I want to see you work. Make up for that little slip earlier. Don’t you want another - ”

His words cut off in a moan as Prompto leant forward, and gave the head of his cock an open-mouthed kiss. It didn’t taste - bad, or different. No hint of Scourge or smell of evil. But it didn’t matter; it was him. 

He’d thought he’d escaped this. After Gralea, he’d thought he’d slipped out of Ardyn’s grasp before the bastard could claim more than a kiss. But now he had Ardyn’s come inside him, Ardyn’s marks all over his ass and thighs, Ardyn’s cock in his mouth. Ardyn had won, he’d got him in the end, and gods, how was he ever going to look anyone in the eye again - 

He slid his mouth down further and his throat convulsed, like his body was rejecting it. Ardyn moaned, clearly enjoying the sensation. “Oh, so good at that.” His voice was hoarse, on the edge of losing control, his hips jerking. But he still sounded smug. “We’ve found a true talent.”

Prompto glared up at him, mouth still stretched round his cock, and found Ardyn flushed, his eyes bright. 

“Still, talent’s not everything. Work a little harder, perhaps.” Ardyn shifted a little in his seat, adjusting Prompto’s position with a hand in his hair. Prompto obeyed, speeding his rhythm. If he could get it done fast, he could get the potion and escape this cursed place, get back to Ignis.

Ardyn let go of his hair, draping his arms elaborately over the throne again. Perhaps enjoying that Prompto would keep working, keep bobbing his head without being dragged. Ardyn knew he’d won. 

Ardyn chuckled - His eyes burnt again, and he fought it, throat working round Ardyn’s cock as he tried to force away the tears. Ardyn would want to see him cry. He didn’t have to give him that satisfaction, he didn’t. Just had to keep going, sucking steadily, and this would be over soon and Ignis would be okay.

The footsteps outside the throne room barely registered through his misery. They were loud and military. An MT, and it was coming in here. It was humiliating, but far from the worst thing he’d suffered today. He kept bobbing his head. Ardyn groaned, loud and indulgent and awful.

A bellow sounded from behind them, and Prompto’s whole body went cold. It was Gladio’s voice, it was Gladio, here and seeing this. He flinched back, but Ardyn seized him by the hair and dragged him back down, holding him in place with his throat seizing round Ardyn’s cock. “Our bargain still holds, Prompto. We have an agreement.” 

“Get off him!”

Prompto struggled, shoving against Ardyn’s legs. He couldn’t stop the distressed groaning escaping him, muffled by Ardyn’s cock, even as it just made his humiliation worse. Gladio’s footsteps were pounding across the throne room, ringing out against the stone. “Fucking get off him, now!”

“You know I feel I should complain at your interruption, for form’s sake.” There was a daemonic gurgle, and Prompto heard Gladio roar and the meaty sound of his sword slashing into something. Prompto tried to fight down his whimpers, choking miserably around Ardyn’s cock. It was hot and huge in his mouth, and terror rose that Ardyn was going to come, that Gladio was going to see Ardyn come in his mouth. “But honestly, this is an awfully satisfying ending in its own way.”

Ardyn let go of his hair and Prompto threw himself backwards, scrabbling away. He wished desperately for weapons, for a gun that’d mean anything against Ardyn. Ardyn bent down and he threw a punch; Ardyn grabbed his wrist before it could connect, squeezing painfully. He cried out and heard Gladio shout his name.

Ardyn stole a kiss, lips hot and fizzing with some filthy-tasting dark magic, and Prompto felt it as a final humiliation: he couldn’t even stop that. “Thank you, dear Prompto. A most satisfactory bargain.” There was a clink of glass on stone, and then the bastard warped away in a flash of bloody light. Prompto cried out in rage: he hated, hated, _hated_ that Ardyn could do that, that he had his filthy pilfering hands all over Noct’s birthright.

There was a howl behind him, and the clash of metal against daemon hide vanished, replaced by the sound of feet pounding across stone, then up the stairs. Prompto twisted himself round, and then Gladio was there, kneeling next to him, dark eyes as close to panic as Prompto had seen in years. His eyes raked over Prompto, looking for wounds, and Prompto clenched his limbs close in embarrassment. “Fuck, fuck, Prompto. Astrals.” Gladio reached for his bruised face. “What did he _do_ to you?”

Prompto laughed roughly, which turned into a cough as it scoured his sore throat. “Think you got a good idea.”

“No. _No_ , Prompto, no, we rescued you from him, how could this fucking happen?”

Prompto raked trembling hands through his hair, then over his face, and sighed. Claiming back a little bit of his skin from Ardyn helped. He pointed at the potion sitting next to them. “I got the cure. It was worth it.”

“No, Prompto, you fucking idiot, no it wasn’t.”

“Iggy’s not gonna die. Of course it was.”

Gladio hesitated, face creasing.

He looked so pained that Prompto thought he might be about to say, ‘if Ardyn told the truth.’ And Prompto couldn’t let him; if this didn’t work he didn’t know what he’d do. “C’mon, we gotta get back.”

He rolled to his knees, then up to his feet. Gladio didn’t look at him, stormclouds written on his face, and for a heart-stopping moment Prompto wondered if Gladio was angry with _him_. For being stupid, or letting Ardyn win.

But he found Prompto’s clothes and handed them to him, one at a time. Prompto didn’t want to admit to Gladio where and how and why it hurt, but it didn’t matter too much, because Gladio picked up the potion and made Prompto lean on him on the way out. Walking out of the Citadel with him sent painful flashes of memory through Prompto: the two of them with Noct, and Ignis, all of them young and unknowing. The bittersweet memories hurt less than the awareness of the pain he felt now, and where it had come from; the memory of Ardyn’s hands on him. So he let them wash over him, and tried not to notice Gladio as he was now, jaw clenched and eyes burning with rage and pain. 

A terrifying thought struck him. He didn’t think Gladio could’ve made it out here if she wasn’t, but -

“Iris is okay, right? You - you got there and she’s okay?”

Gladio slowed for a moment; he’d been marching like the whole world was an enemy he was heading for. “Yeah.” He glanced at him, a smile briefly appearing - the one Gladio only usually gave to Iris, that was sweet enough that it made him look like her. “Yeah, she’s okay. Exhausted and hurt but she’s gonna be just fine.”

Prompto gave a smile of pure relief. “That’s so great. I thought she had to be - but man, that’s - that’s awesome.” _Awesome_ was too small a word, but Gladio nodded like he knew what Prompto meant.

They left the Citadel, and Prompto couldn’t hold back a relieved huff as the doors let them out. Gladio glanced at him, and sped up a little, hurrying them towards Gladio’s car. Prompto climbed inside carefully while Gladio darted ahead, checking the way was at least mostly daemon-free. Prompto hissed as he sat, the crop marks flaring, and was grateful Gladio was too far away to hear the bitten-back sounds as he tried to find a good way to sit.

He couldn’t use a potion for this, there was no way. It wasn’t that serious. He was just going to have to live with the memory of Ardyn caning him, the laughter and the pain and the terror of how bad it might get. The humiliation of Ardyn deciding he wanted to do that with Prompto’s body, wanted to leave scarlet stripes to mark where he’d been, and Prompto _letting_ him.

He blinked away the memories as Gladio got back into the car. Gladio began the drive out of Insomnia. He was silent, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed. He didn’t look at Prompto. Prompto didn’t know if he was relieved; he couldn’t quite bear to meet Gladio’s eyes at the moment, but he wanted to look at him, to keep that sight in his mind instead of hearing Ardyn praise the way he sucked cock or seeing the Scourge creep through Ignis’ body.

But was Gladio angry with him? He couldn’t be, right? But he’d been angry with Noct - with everything - after Altissia and now the rage was wafting off him, filling the car. 

To distract them both from what was going on in their heads, Prompto said, “how did you know I was here?” A half-hopeful thought struck him. “Did Ignis tell you where I’d gone?”

Gladio shook his head grimly. “He was too out of it. Cor told me.”

“Oh.” He bit his lip and it stung, for reasons he didn’t want to think about. He traced the coeurl-print spots on his trousers instead, looking for even a bit of a distraction. “Thanks for coming.”

Gladio did look at him then, eyes cutting away from the dark road, voice rising. “Of _course_ I - ”

Gladio’s eyes landed on Prompto’s wrist. His expression blackened further at the sight of the fingerprint bruises. He had some idea what it meant that Prompto wasn’t wearing his wristband, too, Prompto could see it in his face. Prompto turned over his wrist, hiding the barcode.

“Hey - hey, you know I don’t care, right?”

Prompto nodded. “Right,” he said, voice rasping.

After a moment, Gladio said, “I’ll get you something else when we get back. There’s a bandana in the glovebox, use that for now.” 

Prompto slumped with relief that he could hide it again. Among other things, he didn’t want Cor to see it.

Cor wouldn’t care. He was almost definitely sure. But he definitely couldn’t deal with it all today.

He opened the glovebox. The bandana was royal black - went with his outfit. He tied it round his wrist with one hand and his teeth, drawing it tight, and adjusted it to hide the marks Ardyn had left.

There. Pale freckled skin and black cloth. This bit of him, at least, looked like nothing had happened.

He stared at it, and tried not to well up. He was doing all right until Gladio asked gruffly if he was okay.

“‘M fine.” He paused, swallowing back the burning in his throat, until he could talk mostly normally. “Hey, big guy… don’t tell Iggy what happened, all right? What I did.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious?”

Prompto swallowed. He breathed slowly and carefully, like he was trying not to aggravate a wound. “I - Gladio - ”

“What _you_ did, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Iggy might blame himself. I don’t want him to know what happened here.”

Gladio hesitated at that, then said roughly, “I’d kinda hope that unlike some people, Iggy’d have the sense to blame Ardyn. Since he’s not an idiot.”

Prompto’s heart felt bruised in his chest, and it seemed to block off his voice somehow. After a few moments of silence, Gladio said, “look, we can’t hide that you went to Ardyn. He’ll guess that from the cure. ’Sides, you - you can’t hide how messed-up you are, Prompto. Your face is turning colours.”

“He won’t be able to - ”

“He’ll hear that something’s wrong, and you know it. He’s - he’s gonna know that Ardyn hurt you.” Gladio paused. “But I won’t tell him what happened. Not my business to. Unless you ask me.”

Prompto nodded, throat clenching when he tried to speak.

“I still think you should. If only so Ardyn doesn’t have something to hold over you next time we see him; that guy can sniff out shame and secrets like a bloodhound on speed, he’s gonna know you didn’t tell Iggy. But I won’t. Promise.”

“Thanks,” Prompto said, a little wetly.

Gladio’s voice was weary. “Don’t have to thank me, Prompto. Gods.” 

They drove on, and for a while the only sounds were the roars of distant daemons and their own uneven breathing.

“Want some music?”

They shouldn’t; hard to keep an ear out for the daemons that way.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He’d have thought the hours getting back to Lestallum would be even more endless than the ones getting there. But he was exhausted, so he managed to doze, flinching out of a shallow sleep every so often to check where they were. How close they were to Iggy.

By the time they got to Lestallum Gladio was speeding crazily. Prompto saw him consider driving back to Iggy’s place through the crowded streets, before visibly realising it made no sense. It was quicker to run through the streets, Prompto pushing the pain of it out of his mind, focusing on Iggy and how close they were, his heart banging in his chest, his hands terrifyingly slippery around the bottle he was cradling against his chest. There might still be time.

The hurt Prompto was ignoring still slowed him down, so it was Gladio who shouldered his way through the door to Ignis’ apartment building. They raced up the stairs - no point waiting - and every second of running up the steps was pure panic. He’d pushed it back pretty well, managed to think only sideways about what was happening, flinching from the memory of Ignis sweating as the Starscourge ate at him. But now - now - if it wasn’t too late - it might be too late, he might be - if Cor opened the door and -

Cor must’ve heard them coming, because he opened the door before they could start banging on it. His eyes widened at the sight of them, but there was less than no time to explain. 

Ignis was on the bed, covered in sweat, the purple and black down to his ankle and then up under his clothes. The stink of infection filled the apartment. That was all Prompto took in before he smashed the potion against Ignis’ leg.

The Scourge vanished into nothing.

There was a wiped-clean second where Prompto’s brain was silent, the cacophony of pain and rage and desperate worry silenced, and then Ignis took a gasping breath and relief swamped him, replacing everything else.

“Iggy!” he yelped, rushing forward, and Gladio was on his tail. Ignis sat up, face alert, and Prompto went straight at him, clambering onto the bed to hug him. Gladio seized them both round the neck, delivering a ferocious hug that was practically a weapon in itself. “Iggy, you’re okay, right? Dude, speak to me!”

Gladio didn’t say anything. He was shaking. Ignis sounded utterly bamboozled, which would be hilarious at any other time. “Yes, I’m - I think I’m - it feels fine. You can’t - how did - you can’t see anything?”

After a moment Prompto managed to persuade his limbs to let go of Ignis so he could check out his leg. Gladio let go of him after another second, and then he could see - nothing. The best nothing ever. Just Ignis’ leg, pale and hairy and with a hint of a scar from the now-vanished injury.

“It’s fine. You’re great. There’s nothing. It’s fine.” His voice was shaking all over itself, like he was about to burst out laughing or collapse into tears, and that was about how he felt. Gladio finally pulled away from Ignis, taking great shuddering breaths, and looked down. His voice was hoarse. 

“You’re healed.”

_“How?”_

Cor laughed a little at Ignis’ question, his uncomprehending voice, but Prompto went taut. Gladio froze too, then said, “Prompto went and found you a cure. Kind of a one-time deal, but he did it. But we can do details later.”

“Prompto…” Cor said. “I… Good job, kid. Best one yet.”

He found a smile. The smile couldn’t quite keep from wavering under everything on top of it, but there was nothing that could stop it when Ignis was okay. He was cured. He was gonna be fine.

“I think I should get us all some drinks, huh? Maybe call Iris. Ignis, you got any booze in the house?”

Prompto started laughing.

Ignis admitted to having little in the way of alcohol beyond cooking wine and something for disinfecting wounds, and Cor went out to get some. Maybe as a way to give the three of them a moment alone. Ignis stood up, testing his leg, and the stunned blank of his expression softened into a smile.

Prompto climbed off the bed to hug him again. He gasped a little as he did it, the pain of Ardyn’s caning no longer eclipsed by everything else, and saw Ignis frown.

“Gods,” Gladio said. Distracting him, maybe. “I… man, Iggy. Don’t scare me like that. What - what am I gonna say - what would I have told Noct, huh - ”

They dissolved into a silent moment, Gladio’s hand on Ignis’ arm, Ignis’ head bowed but his hand on Gladio’s shoulder. The contact seemed to steady them both; Gladio’s face slowly relaxed. Ignis swallowed. After a few moments, Ignis raised his head, and angled a smile Prompto’s way.

“I should’ve known you’d find a way. Never underestimate you, hmm?”

“Never!” he said, matching Ignis’ tone then dialling it up: a little chirpier, a little brighter. “Never been beaten yet. The Scourge sure isn’t gonna be the first.”

Ignis chuckled. “Come here.”

The hug was brief, but no less emotional for that. 

They shifted to the couch. It was too small for them all, really; Gladio’s shoulders and Ignis’ long legs and Prompto’s fidgeting meant a lot of space was usually necessary. But today they put Ignis in the middle, and Prompto didn’t think the others minded the bumping together of hands and thighs either. The way they could feel each other breathe.

His ass and thighs hurt a _lot_. But he couldn’t make himself move, not yet. He’d stand up in a moment. He thought he might be bleeding onto his jeans - probably was. They felt rough against his injuries. But Ignis was alive, Ignis was here. He needed Ignis close more than he needed comfort. And Ignis couldn’t see the bruises to ask. It was kind of shitty, being grateful Ignis was blind, but he just - he couldn’t. Not right now.

They talked about nothing. Prompto helped, letting the babble fill up the air while they all recovered a bit, took a breath after the intensity.

Cor reappeared with a grin and a brown bottle, and found glasses. Prompto let Ignis and Gladio stand first, needing a moment before he could get himself up off the couch.

Cor’s eyes were sharp and shadowed, taking him in. “Hey, Prompto. Need me to sort you out? I know Ignis has bandages.”

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to humiliate himself in front of Cor. He trusted him, but gods, he wasn’t sure he could stand anyone else’s hands on him today. And he couldn’t bear for Cor to know what had happened to him. What he’d let Ardyn do.

“Nah, I can do it,” Gladio said. “Give Ignis the chance to thank you.”

Yeah. Prompto huffed out a relieved breath. “Yeah, okay. Thanks though, Cor.” He hoped Cor didn’t feel - rejected, or anything. He probably wouldn’t feel that way, right? This was gonna suck. A lot. But at least Gladio already knew. He’d already seen, really. 

And he wouldn’t freak out. Gladio was tall, like Ardyn, with brown eyes like him. But he’d never used that against Prompto, never hurt him with his size - even that time he’d shoved him, on the train, it hadn’t hurt physically. And he was so familiar it was almost a relief to be close. The foil-biting wrongness of Ardyn touching him gently faded a bit as Gladio crowded into Ignis’ small bathroom with him. It was humiliating, but it was honest. 

“How bad is it?” Gladio asked gruffly. “Wait. Stupid question. I mean - you bleeding anywhere?”

“I don’t think - maybe.” As he checked himself over in the mirror he found himself avoiding his own eyes. “It’s just bruising, mainly. I can check myself over, if you gimme a minute, then tell you if there’s anything that needs bandaging.”

“Okay.” Gladio rifled in the cabinets, and came up with some creams. “Put that on, okay? And - ” he hesitated. “Just - don’t be stupid, okay? Don’t - don’t not tell me about something cos you’re embarrassed. You know I won’t… I hate that you did it, that you had to, but it was - you saved his life.”

“Thanks.” There was a small stain next to the plughole in Ignis’ sink. 

“...Okay.” Gladio took the hint when Prompto didn’t look up, and left the bathroom.

Prompto struggled out of his clothes again, and made himself check. Though he was bruised and swollen and hurting in a dozen places, it wasn’t anything that would last. Physically, he’d be fine in a week. Maybe less.

When he came out, Ignis’ head jerked up. Gladio was waiting by the door. Prompto nodded at him, and they both went and got a glass of Cor’s rotgut, Prompto standing stiffly against the wall.

They talked and drank and laughed. It was weirdly normal, a typical evening with something to celebrate except for the aftershocks underneath. Cor and Ignis didn’t ask about how he’d got the potion or why he was hurt, and Prompto tried not to wonder why. He was sure Gladio hadn’t told them what had really happened, anyway; the occasional air of slight frustration was too palpable around Ignis. No way he knew.

He and Gladio lingered for almost a week. Gladio said gruffly that he wanted to make sure Iggy didn’t get himself into any more trouble. It was probably true, but Prompto suspected it wasn’t the only reason; the wounds from Ardyn had healed to just a sting very quickly, but even so Gladio had been hovering a bit. He didn’t say anything, obviously trying to keep his promise and not make a thing of it in front of Ignis. But it was hard to hover unobtrusively when you were Gladio’s size. 

And Prompto didn’t really mind it. Sometimes it was unbearable, having Gladio’s dark eyes on his face, feeling Gladio silently weigh how Prompto was doing and whether he should ask; it made him itch to be away from Gladio’s gaze. But after the horrible alone-ness of facing Ardyn, having Gladio and Ignis around and all of them in the same space helped. 

Besides, he appreciated Gladio resisting the urge to shout. He could feel him swallowing back the anger about what had happened, same as Prompto was. But Prompto couldn’t yell about it here, not with Ignis around, and Gladio was following his lead.

Then on the sixth day, he got an apologetic text. His team of hunters needed their sharp-shooter back.

“I should head out,” he said, waving his phone. “My team need me. Hunt tomorrow.”

“Of course,” said Ignis. “Honestly, some privacy would be appreciated.”

“Ouch,” Gladio grunted. 

Ignis snorted. “I doubt I’ll get you out of my flat without a crowbar; you can survive my commentary. If you want to be helpful, would you go and get some spices?”

Gladio sighed. “Make me a shopping list,” he said in tones of doom. 

Ignis dictated it into a text, and every additional ingredient made Gladio’s face drop a little further. He groaned theatrically, but didn’t complain. Things were heading for normal, but they weren’t there yet.

Gladio headed out, and after a few minutes Ignis said, “tea, Prompto?”

Not coffee. Very weird. Prompto’s brain started fizzing anxiously.

“Uh. Sure.”

He sat at the table, stomach twisting, while Ignis made the tea. Hoping he was wrong. Hoping Ignis hadn’t sent Gladio out with a long shopping list and then made soothing tea because -

“I wanted a word.”

“Oh.”

Ignis winced a little as he handed Prompto a mug with a moulded picture of a bird on it. “I… Prompto, I’m sorry to bring this up. I know you don’t want to discuss it. And you needn’t,” he added quickly. “But I didn’t want to leave you waiting for the other foot to drop, as it were.” Pain twanged in Prompto’s chest, ignored hurt roaring up like a daemon Ignis had woken. “I - I can only imagine one possible source for a cure for me. And I can’t imagine he gave it to you without exacting a - a price.”

Prompto laughed nervously. “Uh, well. You know. Can’t get something for nothing.”

“Especially not when dealing with him.” There were a few moments of silence, buzzing with unspoken things, while Ignis stared sightlessly into his tea and Prompto tried not to breathe. He didn’t want to move or speak, didn’t want to do anything that could break the moment and make whatever was going to happen next happen. “I just… I’m so terribly sorry. To walk back into his clutches, after Gralea - to let him - it must have been…”

“Don’t be sorry!” Prompto said, his voice pitching up in his distress. “C’mon Iggy, it’s - what else could I do?”

Ignis swallowed then raised his face. His voice was carefully even. “Well, I - I wanted to thank you. It means a great deal to me, what you did. And I - I want to say you shouldn’t have. But I know I’m a hypocrite. There’s no question that I’d do it for you.”

The words wiped Prompto’s whole brain and insides clean, left him blinking and stunned; but there were sparks of happiness left behind, like stars in the night sky.

He took a deep breath. 

“Y’know it really, really sucked.” He took another breath, working to keep the memories out of his head. “But - but in this world we’ve all lost a lot. You more than most. And if this is what it cost me to not lose you, it’s worth it. A thousand times.”

There was a moment’s pause. Ignis’ face had always been inscrutable, even before the visor; but Prompto could hear the emotion in the hitch of his breathing.

“Thank you, Prompto. For letting me stay with all of you. For ensuring that I’ll be here to greet Noct, when he returns.”


End file.
